


Forgiveness

by ladyofbrileith



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-05
Updated: 2012-06-05
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:11:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/424737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofbrileith/pseuds/ladyofbrileith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You shouldn’t have interfered,” MacLeod says softly, his voice dark, menacing.</p><p>Methos swallows. “You should learn to forgive yourself,” he says, once again, a common refrain.</p><p>MacLeod’s hand tightens. “So should you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgiveness

We are all both. Good and evil. We have rage and compassion. We have love and hate. Murder and forgiveness. Why don't you try forgiving yourself, for once?

Methos waits. The silence in his apartment seems unbearable, broken only by the distant sound of traffic. He tenses, wanting to reach for his headphones, wanting to do anything but just wait. It isn’t like he needs to hear when MacLeod arrives. He’ll bloody feel him before he can hear anything. He listens anyway.

The whole thing with Keane...it had troubled him. MacLeod’s sense of right and wrong. His bloody honour. Always putting himself at risk. And leaving Methos terrified that he will have to pick up the pieces of his life again, as he loses yet another person he loved. He wonders if MacLeod has any idea of just how selfish a mistress his honour is. Right and wrong and the feelings of those who love you be damned. Just once, just once, he’d like to see the Highlander take others’ feelings into account and step back from his moral high horse.

He sighs. No, he wouldn’t. Because then MacLeod wouldn’t be MacLeod. But Methos would be far less likely to suffer an apoplexy.

As expected, he feels the other Immortal before he heard his footsteps on the stair. He tenses, his breath quickening, his heartbeat accelerating.

“Methos.” One word, soft, but with a rumble of strength behind it. He turns. Their eyes meet, flicker away, return and hold.

He strives for some sort of nonchalance to belie the sudden turmoil inside.

“MacLeod.” An acknowledgement, though it sounds to his ears far too much like a plea.

MacLeod stands, his face impassive, watching him. Methos can feel his eyes as he imagines them searching his soul. He sends a fervent prayer to a God he no longer believes in that whatever MacLeod is looking for is there.

The silence stretches. Finally, after what seems to Methos to be longer than he’s been alive, MacLeod moves. He paces towards Methos, still silent, and Methos hopes he’s imagining the deadly intent behind those brown eyes.

MacLeod reaches him, invades his space. Methos fights the urge to back away. MacLeod reaches up, grabs the back of his head loosely. Methos half expects the sting of a blade, but he makes no move to defend himself.

“You shouldn’t have interfered,” MacLeod says softly, his voice dark, menacing.

Methos swallows. “You should learn to forgive yourself,” he says, once again, a common refrain.

MacLeod’s hand tightens. “So should you.”

Without further warning, he pulls Methos in, his lips crushing, his tongue punishing at first, then gentling as the kiss becomes an atonement, a sacrament, an absolution. Forgiveness.


End file.
